The grand wedding march had just ended.
Victor Anderson sat at the head table, gaze drifting lazily across the bustling banquet hall full of smiles and laughter. He looked utterly uninterested—eyes deep and distant, giving off a don’t-mess-with-me vibe. But when his eyes accidentally landed on a certain petite figure, that chill in his eyes turned icy cold.
Jessica Frank subtly pressed her arms together, pushing up her already eye-catching chest—yeah, she knew what she was doing.
Standing in front of her, some balding old dude practically had his eyes fall into her cleavage. Without missing a beat, Jessica’s delicate hand slipped behind him and fished out his wallet like a magician pulling off a trick no one saw.
Boom. Third catch of the day.
Thank goodness she didn’t toss that wedding invite when she found it. Best decision ever.
She slipped the plump wallet into her oversized handbag, a sly curve curling on her lips. She gave her hips a little swing—the ultimate distraction weapon—as she walked off, leaving the pervy guy staring after her like he’d just seen heaven on legs.
Victor rubbed his chin slowly, lips tugging into a cold, amused smirk.
She looked *so* much like her. That face, that figure—almost an exact copy of the woman who’d wrecked his mother’s life and snatched away his dad’s affection like it was up for grabs.
Funny how life works. That woman probably never imagined the daughter she sacrificed for money and power would one day land right in his hands.
Now she dared to steal from *his* party? What? Afraid he’d never find a reason to deal with her?
Jessica circled back and casually took a seat at one of the banquet tables. Her twinkling eyes stayed locked on the front doors, where the wedding gifts were being collected.
She’d thrown in five hundred bucks during sign-in earlier, thinking it was generous. But the look she got from the staff? Ice cold. To top it off, the fake name she used got scribbled down last on the list.
Five hundred wasn’t pocket change for her. A whole day digging around train stations and buses might not even get her that much.
If she couldn’t flip that into ten times, even a hundred times more, how was that fair?
Her wrist was still healing after what happened when she helped her sister last time. Nearly three weeks without solid work—rent was late, her foster dad was pressing for money, and the hospital bills for her foster mom were due like yesterday.
The emcee kept yapping on, but finally, the banquet kicked off.
Jessica clutched a drumstick and tore into it like she hadn’t eaten in days, but her sharp eyes never left the people in charge of the cash gifts.
Stacks of red envelopes piled half a meter high on the table, covered in red silk. By her estimate, there had to be at least five million sitting there.
This wedding was insane—hundreds of tables, fresh flowers everywhere. Just the decorations must’ve cost thousands.
But those piles of cash? Way better than winning the lottery. And if that was what people paid in cash, the real big shots definitely paid through other means.
Watching that much money in one place had her heart racing and palms itching.
Rich people blowing money like it was confetti? Absurd.
She just wanted a sliver of that to save lives—so... yeah. Don’t blame her for what she was gonna do next.Victor Anderson shot a sideways glance at the woman who was devouring her food like she hadn’t eaten in days. He took a lazy sip of his wine, the corner of his mouth lifting into a mocking grin.
Finally, someone came over to collect the cash boxes. Jessica Frank clenched her fists instinctively, clearly nervous that the money might get whisked off straight to the bank.
The moment she saw someone carrying the cash out of the banquet hall, Jessica couldn’t sit still any longer. She dropped her chicken bone, stood up in a quick motion, and trailed casually after the group like it was all part of her stroll.
Her figure, graceful and eye-catching, glided out of the hall like a butterfly. Despite standing out a little to the attentive, she didn’t raise any alarm.
But Victor, busy toasting guests with the bride and groom, caught the whole thing. He didn’t miss that woman’s shiny, sharp eyes glued tightly to those cash boxes like a fly that’d found something rotten.
Jessica trailed behind them out of the ballroom and quickly realized they weren’t leaving with the money. Instead, a group of men that looked like bodyguards escorted the boxes toward the elevator.
She followed them almost to the elevator doors, pretending to lean on a nearby wall to fix her makeup while carefully noting which floor they went to.
Victor, meanwhile, stayed back in the hall, casually clinking glasses with company CEOs. But in truth, he wasn’t listening to a word they were saying—his mind was clearly on that little schemer tailing the prize outside.
“You seem to be in good spirits tonight, Mr. Anderson.” One of the older execs chuckled, raising his glass. “Hope you’ll go easy on small fries like us from now on.”
Victor smirked, his eyes dark and unreadable as they flicked to the man’s eager, flattering face.
These leeches had taken advantage of his mother’s downfall and grandfather’s illness to carve up his maternal family’s business. Did they really think he’d just let that slide?
“You’re too modest, Mr. Xia. Business is always full of surprises—I can’t control everything, even if I wanted to. Besides... where’s this big surprise you all promised me?”
His tone was deep and magnetic, but his words were sharp, not masking his contempt even slightly.
They’d gone all out to lure him into this boring wedding party, but if they thought flattery would cut it without some real leverage... what a joke.
“No worries, it’s all ready for you. Once you’re done with the wine, just head upstairs—you won’t be disappointed!” Mr. Xia forced a greasy smile, trying to look sincere.
His daughter had been waiting in Suite 8001 all day. No matter what, they had to catch this guy who seemed immune to every tactic.
“I think I’ve had enough to drink. Maybe I’ll go check it out now,” Victor said nonchalantly, arching a brow as he stood up. If he waited any longer, he might lose track of the fox that had walked right into his trap.
“Here’s the key card,” Mr. Xia eagerly handed over a gold-edged card.
Victor gave it a quick glance—Room 1008?
“Well, let’s hope it’s really a surprise.” He tossed the card to his assistant without much interest and strode right out of the banquet hall.
